[347, Feb 1815]

CHAPTER XXIII

EANWHILE a thunderbolt had fallen, causing consternation throughout Europe. Napoleon had secretly left Elba on the 26th of February. He was accompanied by about 1100 of his guard, whom he had been allowed to retain in his island kingdom, and with these, under Drouet (Count d’Erlon), he landed in France near Cannes on the 1st of March. On the 20th he entered Paris at the head of an army which had joined him as he advanced. Louis XVIII was compelled by the defection of his troops to withdraw from Paris to Ghent; and Napoleon, supported by the army, though not generally by the people of France, assumed his former title of Emperor of the French. The allied Powers refused, however, to acknowledge his sovereignty; Great Britain agreed to replenish the exhausted treasuries of the Continental nations; preparations for war were at once begun, and the Gordon Highlanders were ordered on active service.

The regiment embarked at the Cove of Cork, Headquarters on the Atlas transport. The embarkation strength was:—Field-officers, 3; captains, 6; lieutenants, 19; ensigns, 8; staff, 4; sergeants, 47; drummers, 16; rank and file, 621. 1 captain, 2 lieutenants, 8 sergeants, and 8 corporals, with the men left, were shortly after formed into a recruiting company, and sent to Scotland.

The regiment landed in boats near Ostend on the 10th of May, proceeded by canal to Bruges and next day to Ghent, where it was quartered. The troops disembarked in the market-place on the market-day, and the novelty of the scene made as great an impression on the Highlanders as their garb did on the country people, who treated them very civilly.  At Ghent they were joined by the Royal Scots, 42nd, and 79th, and, says the sergeant, “a happier meeting could not have taken place, so many Scotchmen who had fought side by side in Egypt, Denmark, Spain, and France.”  The British regiments furnished a guard at the residence of King Louis; the officers were admitted to the royal presence, and dined at one of the tables.

In Orders the commanding officer compliments the men on their good conduct, and lessens the patrol duty on that account. The Peninsular Regimental Orders as to the line of march are repeated. The two field-officers are to be alternately riding along the flanks of the column to see that the proper order of march is attended to; no man on any pretence to be allowed to fall out without taking off his knapsack, which is to be carried by two of his comrades till he rejoins his company; officers paying companies to ride; officers to provide themselves with baggage animals; batmen with baggage to be regimentally dressed, with arms and accoutrements; [348, May 1815] the women at all times to move along with the baggage. “From the present weak state of the regiment, the commanding officer hopes they (the officers) will see the propriety of his requesting them not to take their servants to the rear when they go on duty or otherwise.”[1]

The regiment marched at four in the morning of the 27th of May to Alost, along with the 28th, 32nd, 42nd, 79th, and 3rd Battalion 95th, all under the command of Colonel Cameron.[2]  On the 28th they entered Brussels, where the 92nd was placed in the Ninth Brigade commanded by Sir Denis Pack, K.C.B., along with the 3rd Battalion 1st Royals, the 42nd, and the 2nd Battalion 44th. The Ninth Brigade belonged to the Fifth Division, which was under Lieut.-General Sir Thomas Picton, K.C.B.

The regiment was inspected by Sir Denis Pack on the 1st of June, and with the Fifth Division on the 3rd by Field-Marshal the Duke of Wellington, accompanied by Field-Marshal Prince Blücher. The Duke expressed his approbation of their appearance—”He was happy again to see some regiments that had served with great reputation in the Peninsula.”[3]

The orders for inspection desire particular attention to be paid to the gartering of the hose; best black gaiters to be worn; camp kettles, bill-hooks, blankets to be carried.[4]  Officers in blue web pantaloons without lace on the seams, and half-boots, jackets buttoned across, and gorgets. Field-officers with the Highland scarf. The above is no doubt the dress in which the officers of Highland regiments fought at Waterloo, except that the half-boots were replaced by shoes and gaiters (according to Regimental Orders for the actual line of march). The n.c. officers and men wore the Highland dress without purses.

While at Brussels each company was divided into three classes or squads, and were exercised in drill according to their proficiency. All were practised in firing ball and in turning out quickly with tents and baggage packed.

B.O., Bruxelles, 11th June 1815.—Officers will find it through life a useful maxim to be rather an hour too soon than one minute too late.

[349, June 1815] At this time the Headquarters of the Prussian army under Marshal Blücher were at Namur; Wellington was at Brussels, having over 25,000 men in and about that city, but the cantonments of both the allied armies extended to great distances. Wellington appears not to have expected an attack before the end of June, and Blücher wrote, “We will soon enter France; we might stay here a year, for Napoleon will not attack us.”  But the Emperor had determined otherwise. Taking every precaution to prevent his movements being reported, he left Paris on the morning of the 12th of June and arrived on the 13th at Avesnes, where he found 122,000 men present under arms, while large numbers were on the way to join. They were seasoned soldiers who had been serving under the king, or who had rejoined the colours at the call of Napoleon, whose arrival raised their enthusiasm to the highest pitch. He hoped first to defeat the Prussians, that Wellington would then retreat, and that he would enter Brussels in triumph.

That city was filled with fashionable non-combatants of all nations; numbers of British who had long been cut off from the Continent were drawn thither by curiosity, or from having relatives in the army. There was no sense of immediate danger, “and all went merry as a marriage bell.” Among the social entertainments none was so much talked of as the now historic ball given on the 15th of June by the Duchess of Richmond, the same daughter of the Duke of Gordon who, when the 2nd Battalion was in Ireland, “made a great work with them.” Colonel Cameron was among the limited number of guests, and a party of n.c. officers were also invited to show Her Grace’s British and foreign friends a specimen of Highland dancing.[5]

Wellington was aware of the concentration of the French army, and his troops were all warned to be ready to march at a moment’s notice; but he did not hear till the evening of the 15th that Napoleon had crossed the Belgian frontier near Beaumont at daybreak that morning, had driven the Prussians out of Charleroi, and sent Marshal Ney towards Quatre-Bras, while he himself [350, June 1815] followed the Prussians, who retired to Ligny. Historians differ as to the time when Wellington heard of these movements. The 92nd officer whose journal I have so often quoted mentions that while walking in the park at seven o’clock on the evening of the 15th, he met an acquaintance who had dined with the Duke, who advised him to go home at once and pack up, telling him that during dinner Wellington had received a dispatch from Blücher that he had been attacked. On the cloth being removed, His Grace filled his glass and gave the toast, “Prince Blücher and the Prussian army; success to them.”  He then rose from table and at once dispatched the necessary orders to every division of the army.

Wellington attended the ball, thinking that his presence there would have a reassuring effect on the people in Brussels; he remained till past midnight, constantly, however, receiving messages and giving orders privately to the staff; he then quietly withdrew. The officers gradually left the room and joined their regiments, many of them in their dancing-pumps.

Meanwhile bugles and bagpipes resounded through the streets, and the soldiers came swarming out like bees. Four days’ bread and biscuit, which had been in possession of the quartermasters, was issued on the private parades, but this was so bulky that many of the men left part with the people on whom they were billeted. A gentleman who witnessed their prompt turn-out wrote, “The Highlanders have considerable tact in domesticating themselves in quarters, and are in general so quiet, sober and orderly, that they become great favourites everywhere; they nursed the children and generally assisted in the household labour.” The Belgians called them “les bons petits Ecossais,” and bid them a sorrowful adieu, thinking the kindly Scots, who rocked the cradle and helped to make the soup, would be no match for the fierce-looking French grenadiers.

The whole army had been directed to concentrate on Quatre-Bras, but the Fifth Division, which had assembled in the park, did not march off till sunrise on the 16th, when they left the city by the Namur Gate. A lady mentions seeing tearful partings between soldiers and their wives and children, but that many of the wives marched with the regiments. “The 42nd and 92nd Highland Regiments marched with their bagpipes playing before them, while the bright beams of the sun shone on their polished muskets and on the dark waving plumes of their bonnets. We admired their fine athletic forms, their firm, erect, military demean our and undaunted mien. We felt proud that they were our countrymen.”

They halted on the verge of the Forest of Soignies, close to the then obscure village of Waterloo. Here, while they cooked and [351, June 1815] rested, Wellington rode past towards Quatre-Bras, a hamlet situated where the road from Brussels to Charleroi crosses that from Nivelles to Namur, eighteen miles from Brussels.

The position was important, as it commanded the communication from Nivelles and Brussels with Blücher’s position at Ligny. It was held by the Prince of Orange, with only 7800 bayonets and 14 guns,[6] and Napoleon had ordered Marshal Ney to take possession of it. The French General had a corps of 19,000 infantry, 3500 cavalry, and 64 guns, and a reserve of 20,000 men,[7] who did not, however, come into action; but he was uncertain what force was opposed to him. “It might be like a battle in Spain,” said Reille, “where the British only showed themselves at the right moment,” and Ney waited till more of his troops had come up. Wellington arrived at ten o’clock, took in the situation, and sent orders to Picton and the Brunswick Corps to continue their march on Quatre-Bras. Accordingly, the 92nd advanced with the division. They met some waggons with Prussian soldiers wounded on the previous day. They moved slowly, for the heat was excessive and the dust choking; at Genappe the inhabitants had tubs of water, and some of them milk, ready to hand to the thirsty soldiers as they passed along the street.

Hardly were they out of the town when the stimulating sound of cannon freshened them up, so that the men quickened their pace and “Forward” ran through the ranks; but Colonel Cameron knew better than to allow his men to exhaust their energy, and kept them to the ordinary rate. The sounds of strife increased as they neared Quatre-Bras, where they arrived about 2.30, in the nick of time. Wellington had just returned to Quatre-Bras after a meeting with Blücher, who, from the top of the mill of Bussy, had shown him Napoleon taking up his ground, and the dispositions of the Prussian army. Wellington did not approve of these. “If they fight here,” he remarked, “they will be damnably mauled”; and they were.[8]

The hamlet of Quatre-Bras consisted of three farms and two other houses overlooking the undulating corn-fields round it. To the east, the road to Namur was fenced by a bank and ditch; less than a mile and a half along this road, and five hundred yards south of it, stood the farm of Piraumont; on the south-west of the road to Charleroi, about two miles from Quatre-Bras, was the farm of Pierrepont, and half a mile behind Pierrepont was the coppice wood of Bossu, extending back to the hamlet. The large farm of Gemioncourt, three-quarters of a mile along the road to Charleroi, and close to it, formed, with the other farms and the wood, natural positions of defence.

[352, June 1815] Ney had at last begun the action by a cannonade on the farm of Piraumont. He then sent a brigade of infantry and Pines Lancers against it. The Dutch troops who held it were too few to sustain the attack; they were obliged by the infantry to retreat and were routed by the cavalry, so that the French were masters of the position except on the right, which was held by four battalions under Prince Bernard of Saxe-Weimar; and a strong body of French cavalry and infantry were marching to attack these battalions.

It was at this critical moment that the Fifth Division, followed by the Brunswickers, arrived, and without halting, deployed on the Namur road, the Ninth Brigade next the hamlet, the Eighth farther down the road. The 79th formed the extreme left, and the 92nd the right, of the division, which instantly advanced and became engaged with the enemy in the wheat-fields towards Gemioncourt. Wellington, however, desired Colonel Cameron to form the 92nd in line on the road, with his right resting on the houses of Quatre-Bras. His Grace took his station on foot with his staff at the left of the regiment.[9] The enemy opened a cannonade on them from a battery on a height near the road to Charleroi;[10] the Duke ordered the regiment to lie down under cover of the ditch and bank of the road, and he and his staff did the same. Soon the terrible French cuirassiers, under cover of their artillery, with loud cries came charging up the fields in front of the regiment, which still remained in line, and was not afraid. Wellington moved in rear of the centre and said, “92nd, don’t fire until I tell you”; and when they came within twenty or thirty paces he gave the word. A crashing volley—and the ground was covered with fallen horses and their steel-clad riders, while the rest were galloping away. Many, dismounted but unhurt, tried to escape, but in their jack-boots were no match for the Highlanders; some who resisted with their swords felt the bayonets of the angry Scots; those who surrendered were made prisoners.

Meanwhile the rest of the division were sustaining with equal confidence the repeated charges of the French cavalry, who rode [353, June 1815] boldly up to the bayonets, firing carbine or pistol in the hope of breaking the squares. Their indefatigable lancers got near the 42nd, who at first mistook them for Allies; two companies were cut off before they could form square, and suffered severely, but a number of the lancers got hemmed in between the square and the remainder of the two companies, and were instantly bayoneted. The French infantry, assisted by a powerful artillery and magnificent cavalry, behaved with the greatest gallantry in their endeavours to force their opponents to retire. The British had only a few guns and the mounted corps of the Duke of Brunswick, but they withstood every assault with astonishing firmness; the tide of battle ebbed and flowed, fringed by a foam of French skirmishers, and of the Light Companies and marksmen of the British Brigades.

As the day wore on allied reinforcements kept arriving, but some had no stomach for the fight, and spread dismay as they fled by false statements of French success. Mercer, marching with his troop of Horse Artillery on the Nivelles road towards the scene of action, met numbers who cried that all was lost and the British defeated. At last a Gordon Highlander came limping painfully along, with his musket under his arm and a bullet in his bandaged knee. Mercer halted to ask for information, telling him what the Belgians had said. “It’s a damned lee. They were fechtin’ when I cam’ awa’, an’ they’re fechtin’ yet.” He then sat down on a wall and lit his pipe, while the artillery surgeon extracted the bullet.

The Brunswickers had been stationed near the 92nd, and about four o’clock the Duke of Brunswick led his hussars (who wore black uniforms with a silver death’s head in memory of his father, who had been killed in fighting the French) past the 92nd, to repel some French cavalry who had broken the Brunswick Infantry; the hussars charged gallantly, but were disorganised by musketry fire. The Duke was mortally wounded, and they fled before the Red Lancers and Light Cavalry, who were soon up with them, “cutting them down most horribly.”  Wellington, who was in front when the hussars charged, was carried away in their flight, and in danger of being taken; he galloped to the bank lined by the 92nd, and calling to them to lie still, rode at the fence and jumped it, men and all. He had his sword drawn, and as soon as the Highlanders were between him and his pursuers, he turned round with a confident smile, and ordered the regiment to be ready. The flying Brunswickers passed round the right flank close to the bayonets; the French mingled with them, cutting and slashing. As soon as the Brunswickers had cleared their right, the Grenadier Company wheeled back on the road; the rest were to fire obliquely on the mass of rapidly advancing cavalry, who, elated at their success, [354, June 1815] charged them. The Highlanders received them as they did the cuirassiers, with a volley at close quarters. “The volley was decisive. The front of the French charge was completely separated from the rear by the gap which we made, and nothing was seen but men and horses tumbling on each other; their rear retreated, and the front dashed through the village, cutting down all stragglers; our assistant-surgeon, dressing a man behind a house, had his bonnet cut in two and a lance run into his side.”[11]  The survivors, not expecting such a finale to their victorious career, fled in confusion. One of their officers, having got too far in front of his men made a neck or nothing dash to escape along the rear of the 92nd. Some thought he was riding at the Duke, and one or two mounted officers tried to stop him, but he parried their cuts and galloped down the line past His Grace, who called out, “Damn it, 92nd, will you let that fellow escape?”  Some men of the 6th and 7th Companies turned round, fired, killed his horse, and a ball at the same time passed through both feet of the gallant young officer. Lieutenant Winchester, 92nd, wounded at Waterloo, was afterwards billeted with him in the same house at Brussels for six months, and travelled with him to Paris, where he received much kindness from him and his family; his name was Burgoine. Three others came down the road at full speed on the Grenadiersy brandishing their swords; two were brought down; an officer with his sword cut the hamstring of the other’s horse, and he was taken.

Ney had received an urgent dispatch from the Emperor, desiring him to act vigorously, to drive away the British and to second his own attack at Ligny on the Prussians, so as to destroy them wholly. “The fate of France is in your hands,” he wrote. Ney saw that his enemy was being reinforced, and that if Napoleon’s orders were to be carried out, it must be now or never. He renewed his efforts on the key of the position, and about five o’clock the regiment was again charged by two columns of cavalry, who were received in the same manner as their predecessors, and with the same result. Some of the defeated cuirassiers sought shelter in the farmyard, remained there for some time unobserved, and finally galloped out and escaped.[12]

At this time the Third Division arrived, and prolonged the left of the British line; the Guards also came up, and were thrown into the wood of Bossu. As each battalion hurried past, it was, loudly cheered by the 92nd, for never was help more welcome. The regiment, however, had little respite; the most severe contest of the day was yet to come.

[355, June 1815] Two hundred yards from the hamlet was a two-storeyed house beside the road, and from its rear ran a thick hedge a short way across a field. On the opposite side of the road was a garden surrounded by a thick hedge. Under cover of a cannonade, two columns of French infantry were now seen advancing, one by the Charleroi road, the other by a hollow in front of the wood of Bossu. The house and hedge were occupied by these troops, while some advanced still nearer to the 92nd, and the main body, 1200 to 1500 strong, took post about a hundred yards in rear of the garden. The colonel’s fiery temper chafed to be at them, as he paced impatiently up and down, and he asked leave to charge. “Take your time, Cameron, you’ll get your fill of it before night,” said the Duke, who was again with the regiment, for their position commanded a general view. Soon he said, “Now, 92nd, you must charge these two columns of infantry!” Instantly the regiment, about 600 in number, leaped over the ditch, headed by Colonel Cameron and General Barnes, the latter calling out, “Come on, my old 92nd!”—for their old brigadier loved the regiment, and though it was not his duty to charge, “he could not resist the impulse,” writes a 92nd officer.[13]  The Grenadiers and First Company took the high road, the other companies to their right advanced upon the house and hedge, and some upon the garden, the enemy pouring a deadly fire on them from the windows and from the hedge. The officer with the regimental colour was shot through the heart, the staff of the colour was shattered in six pieces by three balls, and the staff of the king’s colour by one.[14]  Cameron was struck in the groin by a shot fired from an upper window; he lost command of his horse, the animal galloped back to where the colonel’s groom was standing with his second horse. There it suddenly stopped, and its rider was pitched on his head on the road.

“It was hot work then,” said an old Highland soldier. “They were in the hoose like as many mice, an’ we couldna get at them wi’ oar shot when their fire was ca’in’ doon many a goat man among us; but we had seen Cameron fall, an’ oot o’ that they had to come, or dee where they were; so we ower the hedge an’ through the garden till the hoose was fair surrounded, an’ they couldna get a shot oot where we couldna get ane in. In the end they were driven oot, an’ keepit oot. Ay, but the French were brave men, an’ tried again an’ again to take it from us, but they only got beaten back for their pains, and left their dead to fatten the garden ground.”

At the house the bayonet did its deadly work, and Cameron [356, June 1815] was amply avenged by his infuriated followers,[15] but the main body beyond showed no disposition to retire; they were greatly superior in numbers, and kept up a shower of musketry upon the Highlanders at the hedge, sufficient to appal any but the most experienced soldiers; and but for the officers’ attention to their duty, and the encouragement of their veteran comrades, some of the younger men would not have been kept steady under it. Lieut.-Colonel Mitchell, who had succeeded Cameron, was wounded, and Major Donald MacDonald took command. To extricate themselves from this situation part of the battalion was moved round the right side of the house and garden, and part round the left, while a third passed through the garden and forced the gates under a fire described by an officer of the party as “truly dreadful,” and which they could not answer effectively till the whole battalion could be brought to bear upon the enemy. Then the word was given-the thrilling British cheer, which none can hear unmoved, rang out as they levelled their bayonets to the charge. For a few seconds the French awaited the assault, but as they marked the steadfast bearing and stern countenances of the rapidly-approaching Highlanders, their courage failed them, they gave way, and sought to escape by the hollow up which their left column had advanced. As soon as they turned their backs, the 92nd plied them with musketry; “And so well did our lads do their duty, that at every step we found a dead or wounded Frenchman.”  “Never was the fire of a body of men given with finer effect than that of the 92nd during the pursuit, which continued for fully half a mile.”[16]  Being completely separated from the rest of the line, and threatened by a corps of cavalry, the regiment entered the wood and maintained their position there against all comers till relieved by the Guards, and about eight o’clock they were ordered to retire, and form behind the houses at Quatre-Bras. A night under arms, an eighteen miles’ march, and five hours’ fighting is hungry work; “Malgré la chute des empires le dîner vient tous les jours” (Dinner time comes round though empires fall); the Highlanders cooked their suppers in the cuirasses worn by the cuirassiers they had killed a few hours before.[17]

In other parts of the field Wellington was equally successful, but the French gave way only foot by foot. Everywhere the mass of dead and wounded—over 4000 French and over 5000 of the Allies—bore witness to the fury of the fight. [Click on map for an enlarged view.]

[357, June 1815] All firing had ceased by nine o’clock. The French reoccupied the ground they held in the morning; the Allies had maintained their position, and completely defeated and repulsed the enemy’s attempt to get possession of it. Wellington in his dispatch says—”The troops of the Fifth Division and those of the Brunswick Corps were long and severely engaged, and conducted themselves with the utmost gallantry. I must particularly mention the 28th, 42nd, 79th, and 92nd Regiments, and the battalion of Hanoverians.

“About ten o’clock,” says an officer, “the pipe-major took post in front of the village.” . . . “Long and loud blew Cameron, but his efforts could not gather above half of those whom his music had cheered on their march to the battlefield.”  Of thirty-six officers who went into action only eleven escaped unhurt. Colonel Cameron was mortally wounded; Captain W. Little, Lieutenant James J. Chisholm, Ensigns Abel Becher and John Ross MacPherson were killed; Lieut.-Colonel James Mitchell, Captains G. W. Holmes, Dugald Campbell, and William C. Grant (mortally); Lieutenants Robert Winchester, Thos. Hobbs, Thomas M’Intosh, James Ker Ross, Ronald MacDonald, Hector Munro Innes, George Logan, John M’Kinlay,[18] George Mackie, Alexander MacPherson, Ewen Ross; Ensigns John Branwell, Robert Logan, Angus MacDonald, Robert Hewitt, and Assistant-Surgeon John Stewart were wounded; 35 n.c. officers and men were killed[19] and 245 were wounded, of whom many died of their wounds. I have not the morning state of the 16th, but comparing that of the 18th with the number killed and wounded, it seems that about 650-660 sergeants, drummers, and rank and file went into action.

Sir Thomas Picton, commanding the Fifth Division, on returning to the rear after the action, not knowing how severely the regiment had been engaged till he saw the remnant of it, asked what this was. On being told it was the 92nd, he asked, “Where is the rest of the regiment?”

The following is a copy of Major MacDonald’s report of the action, written on the spot:—

Sir,—Colonel Cameron and Lt.-Col. Mitchell having been both severely wounded, I have the honour to report, for your information (not having been under your eye during the whole of the day), that the 92nd Regiment repulsed repeated attacks of cavalry, and by a rapid movement charged a column of the [358, June 1815] enemy, and drove them to the extremity of the wood on our right. Our loss has been severe, as will be seen by the return of killed and wounded. I have, etc.

(Signed) Donald MacDonald,
Major 92nd Commanding.

Major-General Sir Denis Pack, K.C.B.

 After Colonel Cameron fell, he was taken on a cart by his faithful foster-brother and servant, Private Ewen M’Millan,[20] and one of the pipers, to the village of Waterloo, where he died during the night. Being told that the British had been victorious, he said, “Then I die happy”; and later, “I trust my dear country will think I have done enough; I hope she will think I have served her faithfully.” His last hour was soothed by the plaintive music which awakes a Highlander’s deepest feelings and most sacred memories of home and kindred, and his last supplications to the Throne of Grace were uttered in the mountain tongue.[21]

In Colonel Cameron the Gordon Highlanders lost an officer who had served with them in every campaign except Corunna; he had commanded a battalion since 1806, and had led them “always to honour and almost always to victory.”  His influence had a lasting effect on the character of the regiment. A strict disciplinarian, he understood that prompt obedience can be enforced without worrying officers or men, and that discipline and drill are but means to the end of making troops cool and handy in times of danger and difficulty. He was deservedly respected by his officers, to whom, however, his manner was rather reserved and distant. Thoroughly knowing his duty, he did not fear responsibility, and  “never allowed the rights or comforts of his men to be disregarded or lost sight of by anyone; they considered him their best and never-failing friend, and reposed the most implicit and unbounded confidence in him as a commander.”[22]  The effects of his fiery nature were never more severely felt than by the officers of the commissariat, if his men suffered from any neglect at the hands of that department.

A most respectable old soldier, John Downie by name, used to speak of him as being much liked by the good men, “though he made us do our duty”; “a splendid soldier”; “his only fault, his reckless bravery.” The late Sir Duncan Cameron having heard it stated that his brother sometimes carried discipline to excess, sent for two Ballachulish men who had served in the 92nd. The first was a cunning calculating customer, whose desire was to please by speaking smooth things, and he made out the colonel’s [359, June 1815] character to be so perfectly angelic that Sir Duncan, seeing through him, ordered him off without even showing him the hospitality for which his house was famous. The other was a manly old soldier, who spoke as he thought and felt. Sir Duncan questioned him, “De nis an scorsa duine a bha ‘nam bhrathair?” “Innsidh mise dhuibh a Shir Donnachadh ; se Duine gasda, foghainteach, ailidh, a bha ‘n Colonel Ian, fhad ‘sa bha gnothaichean a dol gu math, ach ‘se fior dheamhan a bh’ann ‘nuair a rachadh camadh na corraige air aimreidh.” [“Now, what sort of a man was my brother?” “I will tell you, Sir Duncan. Colonel John was a fine, brave, splendid man when duty was well done (business went well), but the very devil when anything went wrong (lit. when the bending of the ringer).”] Sir Duncan asked no more questions. “Ni sin an gnothach,” and dismissed him to his dinner in the hall with a £1 note in his pocket. In short, Colonel Cameron may be described as one who used his authority “for the punishment of evil-doers, and the praise of them that do well.”

He was a born leader of men, besides being a true Highland gentleman, devoted to the music and the poetry of his country.[23]

His remains, which had been interred near the place of his death by his friend Mr Gordon the paymaster, his servant, and a few wounded men, were removed the following year. They were brought to Lochaber by a man-of-war, and were committed to their final resting-place at Kilmallie, on the shore of Locheil, in Argyllshire. Three thousand people of the country attended the funeral, headed by Lochiel, MacNeil of Barra, MacDonald of Glencoe, Campbell of Barcaldine, and many other Highland gentlemen.

 

And Sunart rough and wild Ardgour,
And Morven long shall tell
And proud Ben Nevis hear with awe,
How, upon bloody Quatre-Bras,
Brave Cameron heard the wild hurrah
Of conquest as he fell.[24]

A monument was erected to his memory at Kilmallie by an arrangement between his family and his regiment. The epitaph, written by Sir Walter Scott, is given in Appendix XI. A monument was also raised at Kinrara by his first commanding officer, the Marquis of Huntly, to the memory of Colonel Cameron, Lieut.-Colonel Sir R. Macara, K.B., of the 42nd, also killed at Quatre-Bras, and the other Highland officers and soldiers who fell in the war.

The Duke of Wellington thus expressed himself in his dispatch [360, June 1815] to the Secretary of State, transmitting the lists of killed and wounded at Quatre-Bras and Waterloo:—

“Your Lordship will see in the enclosed lists the names of some most valuable officers lost to His Majesty’s service. Among them I cannot avoid to mention Colonel Cameron, of the Ninety-second, and Colonel Sir Henry Ellis, of the Twenty-third Regiments, to whose conduct I have frequently drawn your Lordship’s attention, and who at last fell distinguishing themselves at the head of the brave troops which they commanded.

“Notwithstanding the glory of the occasion, it is impossible not to lament such men, both on account of the public and as friends.”

In acknowledgment of his distinguished services, Colonel Cameron’s father was created a baronet.

Ailean Dall (Blind Allan), the bard of Glengarry, composed a lament, which is given in Appendix IX.

“While I live,” says an eye-witness, “I shall ever retain a vivid recollection of the farmyard at Quatre-Bras on the evening of the 16th and morning of the 17th.”[25]  The whole yard was dyed with blood and the walls stained with it. A surgeon stated that at one period of the battle nearly 1000 wounded soldiers were in that narrow space. In those days there were no anæsthetics to save the shock of amputation to the system; no antiseptics to keep the wound clean. The only means available to the surgeons to prevent hemorrhage was an application of boiling oil or pitch. There were no organised ambulances or trained nurses, but the soldiers’ wives were always helpful on such occasions. Those of the wounded from Quatre-Bras who could walk went to Genappe; the others, in carts to Brussels and Antwerp, where the people vied with each other in their attentions.

About five o’clock in the morning Wellington arrived from Genappe, where he had slept. It was cold, and on dismounting he asked, “Ninety-second, will you favour me with a little fire? “ The men quickly made a fire opposite the door of a little hut made of boughs of trees, which they endeavoured to make suitable for the Commander-in-Chief, His Grace expressing his thanks for their attentions. In this airy residence he received definite information that Blücher, after his defeat at Ligny the previous evening, was retreating on Wavre. “Old Blücher,” he said, “has got a d——d good drubbing. He has gone eighteen miles to the rear; we must do likewise. I suppose they will say in England that we’ve been thrashed. I can’t help it.”

[361, June 1815] In passing by Brussels the year before, he had observed the position of Mont St Jean; he now sent word to Blücher that he would establish himself there, and expect support from at least one division of Prussians. Should he march at once, or let the troops breakfast? “I know the French,” he said. “They won’t attack till they have made their soup.” And he decided to let his men rest. Here he gave his orders, and received the Prince of Orange and many other distinguished officers, among them Lord Hill, under whom the 92nd had served so long in the Peninsula, and whom they “dearly loved for his kind and fatherly conduct towards them.”  Officers and men joined in testifying their regard. Hill approached them hat in hand, much affected, and going among them spoke to officers and men “in a very kindly manner.” The cheers brought Wellington hurriedly out of the hut, but on perceiving the cause, he laughed and seemed “quite delighted with the mark of respect which ‘her nainsel’ had paid to his friend and favourite general.” Hill gave them a high character, to which the Duke replied that he himself knew well what they could do, and that by and by he would give them something to keep their hands in use.

All felt depressed when it became known that Blücher had retreated, but Wellington appeared unmoved and confident. A 92nd officer describes him walking quickly up and down for a time, “dressed in white pantaloons, half-boots, a military vest, white neckcloth, blue surtout and cocked hat,” his left hand behind his back, and in his right a switch, one end of which he frequently put to his mouth; interrupted often by a courier with dispatches, or stopping to talk with animation to the Prussian Envoy (Muffling). About ten o’clock the infantry were put in motion, but, to conceal his design from the enemy, the Duke kept the Third and Fifth Divisions in front of Quatre-Bras till the other troops were well on their way, when they also began their retreat. The 92nd formed the rear guard of the infantry, whose retreat was by no means hurried, for the Fifth Division halted half an hour near Genappe; during which time some men of the division were tried for wantonly firing away their ammunition instead of drawing the charge at the end of the day, a practice dangerous to comrades and apt to give rise to false alarms. While the regiment was ascending the heights in rear of Genappe, the body of the gallant Duke of Brunswick was carried past on a waggon. The Black Hussars who guarded it pointed out to the Highlanders the fatal wound in his breast, and swore to avenge the death of their prince.

The cavalry, who had arrived from their various cantonments after the action of the 16th, covered the movement of the whole. They remained with Wellington, who still watched his adversary [362, June 1815] from Quatre-Bras, till the afternoon, when Napoleon, who now commanded in person, began to advance in force. There was a sharp affair of cavalry[26] at Genappe; the Emperor himself could be seen by the British rear guard encouraging the pursuit. “Tirez! Tirez! Ce sont des Anglais!” (Fire! Fire! They are English!) he cried, with an accent of anger and hate, to the gunners of his advanced guard.[27]

The day had become sultry and black clouds darkened the sky; the first cannon-shot seemed to break them, peals of thunder and flashes of lightning mingled with the roar of the guns, a perfect deluge of rain turned the roads into water-courses and the fields into a morass; it was with difficulty the horses could drag the guns, or the infantry their feet, from the moistened clay. At La Belle Alliance the 92nd were relieved by a corps of foreign troops, when they crossed the narrow valley, but before they took their place in position, the enemy were cannonading them from the heights of La Belle Alliance. This was between six and seven p.m. Shortly after, firing ceased on both sides.